Mackenzi Steele-Zuppas is from Winchester, Va. and played softball at Daytona State College and Appalachian State before she finished her college career at Howard University. She has been a highly successful pitching coach and was a volunteer assistant at the Univ. of Nebraska before joining the coaching staff at Gardner-Webb University two years ago. The Div. I school in the Big South Conference is a private Christian liberal arts university in Boiling Springs, North Carolina. 

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The Summer before 9th grade, my dad and I were watching the Women’s College World Series on TV and I said:

“I want to do that.”

… and he asked:

“Do what?”

I replied:

“Pitch on TV.”

He was aware of the work that would entail and the timeline I would be on to do so, and he immediately knew I had no idea what I was saying. However, he didn’t care for going against my dreams, he only wanted to help my dreams come true.

Quickly after, he quit coaching three sports to help train me and prepare me for the new goals I had set for myself. We trained six days a week—lifting, speed and explosion, pitching, and hitting to reach these goals.

I don’t remember one day that he didn’t show up for me or a day he wasn’t my partner 100 percent in. He was determined to help my dreams come true by creating the best plans for practices/lifting/conditioning, figuring out the complicated movement of pitching, and being my biggest supporter day in and day out.

My Dad began to research the best and who we should learn from. When he puts his heart into something, he puts his entire heart into it. There is no halfway for him.

Dad was a decorated athlete himself and he gave everything he had to help me push the needle forward in this journey. Even though I was well behind my fellow teammates, and we truly knew nothing about recruiting, I knew I was never alone in this journey.

My father always instilled in me that, “Where there is a will, there is a way” and he lived this out every day and showed me that I can do it, if I also put my whole heart into it.

We seemed quite crazy, yet confident that our determination, training, and the grace of God would open doors for me in the softball world. We didn’t quite know what it would look like, and looking back, we could never have imagined how beautiful it would be, but he knew that he would do anything to see me happy and succeed.

He would go on to drive me four hours to Pittsburgh, Pa. for lessons, pay extremely high prices, talk to anybody and everybody that could help, take two jobs to pay for lessons, and study pitching so intently that he became, in my opinion, one of the best pitching coaches in the country.

My Dad doesn’t know what it means to live for himself.

That has never been his mentality or even a thought. He was born to raise two children that he would live for. He would show us what it looks like to become more like Jesus on this Earth and to give yourself to your family.

His dream was to see our lives thrive.

The summer going into my freshman year of college, I got the opportunity to play at a Division I university in the fall. He thought his job was done and he was ready to be my biggest fan. He went back to coaching high school football and was changing other kids’ lives again.

After my freshman year I decided to transfer to a junior college. We didn’t know what it would entail or how the training would be, so he again decided to drop his entire life and move to Daytona Beach, Florida with me in order to ensure I was able to return to the Division 1 level.

That Summer, my dad was barely able to walk because of what we thought was a pulled hamstring. He would hang on to the fence and pull himself out to the softball field to sit on a bucket to catch me every day.

Two weeks before we were supposed to move, he was hospitalized for a blood clot that moved from his leg, through his heart, and into both sides of his lungs. He was a few breaths away from dying. He was still in the hospital when it was time to leave for Daytona and I remember looking at him in the hospital bed and saying:

“I didn’t sign up to move to Florida without you.”

 Immediately he said:

“I will be there as soon as I get out of here”.

My Mom and Brother (God-sent people) ended up moving me into Daytona State College instead. I continued my training and waited for him to be released from the hospital and move to Daytona.

A few short weeks later, he was in his car on his way to Florida. I would practice every day with my team and then we would pitch every day on various local fields and train for my future opportunity.

His health quickly deteriorated, and it was obvious that something wasn’t quite right with his body. Still, he never missed a day of pitching. He never said he wasn’t able to make it, or he wasn’t feeling well enough to come.

His body was attacking itself… but pitching? There was always enough energy for pitching.

When we went home for Thanksgiving break, I remember telling loved ones:

“You all don’t understand, because you don’t see him every day, something is not right, he seems like he is dying.”

We then returned to Florida and I felt overjoyed with how selfless he is in driving us 12 hours and back that I gave him a big hug. I squeezed a bit too hard and he toppled over in pain. There was something entirely not right, but what was he concerned about?

What time I wanted to pitch tomorrow.

A few weeks later, I could barely sleep because I was anxious about my conditioning test with my team the next day. That morning, I got a call at 6:00 am. He said he was in his truck, and he couldn’t move and asked if I would take him to the hospital. He was having such bad chest pain that he couldn’t move.

In the hospital he was not able to feed himself, so I helped feed him and stayed by his side except for when I had class and practice. They gave him no answers and he practically crawled out of the hospital and into the car.

What was he concerned about still? Pitching.

Nothing was going to stand in his way of helping me meet my goals and dreams, not even his body giving out on him.

I then committed to play for my alma mater, Howard University and my dad’s health was slowly getting worse and worse. His legs would stop working often, his chest and back pain was unbearable, and he looked like an 80-year-old man who wasn’t even 50 yet. That fall I had to redshirt at home because of credit requirements and he pitched with me every day, still.

My whole career thus far, he lived 30 minutes away and would pick me up every day and take me to the field or cages. Now, he was unable to go anywhere or drive without extreme pain, so I came to him every day and we pitched where he lived in Front Royal, Va.

It would take him 15 minutes to get out to the field because he could only shuffle his feet. I would constantly ask him if he didn’t want to come out that day, but that was the last thing on his mind.

At this point, he couldn’t be on the bucket anymore, but he sat behind the backstop in a comfortable chair while I pitched to a fence or net, and he coached me the whole way.

In the spring, I moved into my apartment at Howard University and a short time into the semester, we found out he had Multiple Myeloma, one of the most painful and aggressive cancers there is.

He showed up at my apartment to tell me the news and my whole world felt shattered. His doctors said he may only have a year to live. As crippling as it was at the time, I somehow knew that my dad would make it through. I’ve seen this man do the impossible.

One example being getting me to a Div. 1 school. I could barely throw a strike above 40 mph at 14 years old. I’ve seen this man fight and persevere through incredible circumstances and I had faith in God and that my dad’s story wasn’t over.

Our story wasn’t over—he went on to respond so well to his treatments and stem cell transplant that his doctors called him a walking miracle.

That Spring I was a redshirt and he couldn’t be in public at all. God’s timing is incredible because he didn’t have to miss my playing days. Do you know where he was the very next spring? At every single game.

He became my team’s favorite fan and favorite person. He followed us across the country and everywhere we went. He was even more determined now to live his life to the fullest and do you know what that entailed? Seeing me play softball and pitch in college.

I went on to be the graduate assistant at the University of Nebraska for two years and the volunteer assistant for one year. You guessed it… my Dad was at those games too. He is there no matter what. Whether I was on the bench, in the circle, or coaching on the side.

I am now the assistant coach and pitching coach for Gardner-Webb University where he has attended almost every game and is again, my team’s biggest fan.

His cancer has come back a few times—with Multiple Myeloma, it never really goes away. He was diagnosed with skin cancer and had to have surgeries, but he still doesn’t skip a beat when it comes to seeing me live out my destiny.

I now call him my Special Advisor and call him to ask advice and guidance on all my coaching endeavors, as well as almost everything in life. As well as share the entire journey with him.

It is one of his favorite parts of life and we have been in it together since Day 1 and still are in it together. Having someone that is this committed to your life and dreams is life altering and inspiring.

I have learned that loving your children as God loves us, is everything in this hard world. He has taught me that with extreme work and a lot of prayer, anything can happen.

I am a confident woman who knows no bounds because my Dad doesn’t believe in limits. He was dying, and he still knew no limits. The relationship we have built through this journey is the best thing imaginable in this game.

I would do it all over again if I knew I would have a best friend in my dad, someone that I can always confide in and trust. Softball is just a game, but my Dad used the game and the journey to teach me more about life than anything ever could.

My Dad is my best friend and hero. He would rather put his life on the line than see my dreams not come true. That is selflessness, that is love, that is my Dad.

— Mackenzi Steele Zuppas